


I'm Beginning to see the Light

by OrangeHobbit



Category: Half-Life VR but the AI is Self-Aware - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Black Mesa is not a good place to live in full time, Crying, Dancing, Falling In Love, Food mention, Growing Old Together, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Music, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Slow Dancing, black mesa owns a lot of shell companies and this includes a motel in new mexico, coomer infodumping/quoting wikipedia, oh my god these grandpas are gay, pining?, record players, young dr coomer and bubby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25257784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeHobbit/pseuds/OrangeHobbit
Summary: “Professor Bubby, I hate to make a visit at this late hour, but I require some assistance.”“Doctor.” Bubby corrected.Coomer sighed “It’s.. It’s about my wedding. You’re my best man bubby! You’ve got to help me! Please?”Bubby waves his arms a bit in a loss for words. “Ok, you’ve got me. What do you need?”“Do you know.. Dancing?”---Three dances between Bubby and Coomer throughout the ages with old vinyl records and a record player.
Relationships: Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 67





	I'm Beginning to see the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up, this mentions divorce and Dr Coomer feeling crushed about it. If you can't handle it, it starts at "It became a shockingly boring routine" and ends at " the impending emotional devastation of his best friend’s divorce forgotten for a few sweet hours."
> 
> Title from "I'm Beginning To See the Light" by Harry James & his Orchestra.

It was a special occasion for the both of them. It was one of the few times Bubby was let out of the facility - on the instruction of psychological tests and interviews were done, and a month in the tube afterwards - and into a secured, locked-down motel next to some other Black Mesa staff and family of the groom. The bride and her entourage were held in another place, by the military. 

It was.. Pretty sweet being out of Black Mesa, Bubby thinks. Sure he couldn’t go outside and could only eat things the Black Mesa security detail gave him, but it was nice. No obnoxious hum of the white lights and machinery, or near-constant broadcast announcements. He could even see some weird looking and extremely fast pigeons outside his window, being chased by security guards with guns. 

\-----

There was a knock at his door, just after sunset. “Yes? Is it you, Dr Breen?”

“Hello Bubby. It’s me, Dr Coomer.” came a welcome voice from the other side of the door.

  
  
“Dr Coomer! Come in.”

The door opened and Coomer walked in. He was carrying what looked like records in his hands.  _ Well shit, this is going to be interesting _ . 

“Professor Bubby, I hate to make a visit at this late hour, but I require some assistance.”

“Doctor.” Bubby corrected.   
  
Coomer sighed “It’s.. It’s about my wedding. You’re my best man bubby! You’ve got to help me! Please?”

Bubby waves his arms a bit in a loss for words. “Ok, you’ve got me. What do you need?”

“Do you know.. Dancing?”

“What?”

“The festive jig! The foxtrot! The cakewalk!” 

“I’ve heard of them, but only because they uploaded shit into my brain.”

  
  
“The shuffle?” coomer adds hopefully.

  
  
“No, I don’t. What’s that?”

Coomer laughs, and starts infodumping. “The Melbourne shuffle is a dance from the rave scene in Melbourne, Australia in the 1980’s. Internationally, The running man style of the Melbourne Shuffle was Popularized by the music act of uncle and nephew, LMFAO on their studio Album “Sorry for Party Rocking” outside of Australia. The song it is most commonly danced with is the track “Party Rock Anthem”. The dance moves involve a fast heel-and-toe movement or T-step, combined with a variation of the running man coupled with a matching arm action.”

“Still doesn’t ring a bell.” Bubby frowned, halfheartedly. 

“Well, darn. I am of the same experience as you, friend.” Coomer looked anxious. “I was hoping that you’d help me with the- The first dance a couple takes on the dance floor.”

“You want to practice slow dancing?” bubby spat out, without malice, his cheeks feeling slightly warm.  _ With me _ ? His mind provided. (Bubby locked that thought deep in his mind - Coomer was engaged. And to be _married in the morning_!)   
  
“I surely je- I mean, it may be so. It may be so, but I haven’t seen the set list for the reception yet and well- You’re my best man, Bubby!” Coomer looked like he was going to fucking explode of anxiety; curling his hair with his hand, and fiddling with the ends of his clothing (a shitty Hawaiian shirt and long pants with suspenders). 

Bubby sighed. “Alright. I’ll do it. But I’m choosing the best out of your old-as-balls music taste to dance to, Coomer.”

Dr Coomer’s face lit up spectacularly, a smile that was as bright as the midday sun over the desert - his anxiety seemingly gone. “Thank you! Thank you bubby!”

Bubby looked over at the records Coomer had brought over. Frank Sinatra? No fuckin’ way. All his shit was love songs, and bubby was kind of avoiding that right now for his own sake. Nat King Cole? Not in the mood, and the same vibe as Sinatra. Ruth Etting? The audio from the 30’s was too low-quality for Bubby’s tastes - One of the many weaknesses of the Era. Miles Davis? Oh, but this one had another featuring artist. Not tonight. 

He eventually settled on a Sidney Bechet record -  _ Si tu vois mére _ . A nice, non-romantic slow song of just music and no words that could make his face seem visually reddened (more than it could be, he assumed).

\-----

Clearing the motel room and placing down the record player in a reasonable spot, the track faded in. A slow tempo of brass, with a splattering of strings underneath - and the cry of a clarinet tied the piece together. 

Bubby rested his arms on Coomers', and started a waltz. He wasn’t sure what the future Mrs Coomer wanted, so he let Coomer lead. 

They clasped hands, moved in a bit, and started to twirl and sway about the small motel room. It seemed bigger than it was, really. Their steps were as light as feathers. Chasing each other, yet not meeting or tripping the other over. The basic Waltz in box step style, if Bubby remembered. With a sweet rhythm - One, Two, Three. One, Two Three. One, Two, Three.

As the song went on, the closer they became. Bubby eventually started resting his hand on Dr Coomer’s shoulder, to really intimidate the feeling of his fiancee. Yeah, that’s what it totally is. Just to help his best friend along and not feel weird on his own wedding night.  _ Yeah _ .  _ Nothing else, nothing more _ .

The song ended, and the two men stayed like that for a small moment - swaying to a tune that wasn’t there anymore. then bubby pulled away quickly and coughed awkwardly, straightening his clothes. 

“I hope this has been educational enough for you, Dr coomer.” Bubby said, a little bit  _ too _ fast. 

Coomer looked a little flushed as well, or was it the lighting?

“Thank-” he cleared his throat as well,” Thank you as well, Dr Bubby. I think I’ll be fine on my wedding day now.”   
  
“No problem.” as an afterthought - “You’d better get some sleep soon. It’s not late, but you never know what shit will happen tomorrow.”   
  
“O-Oh. Yeah, I should do that. Thank you again Dr Bubby, and Goodnight!”

“Goodnight Dr Coomer.” Bubby waved him off, and sat on his bed as the motel door closed.    
  
The silence of the room now overwhelmed him. Why does-   
Why does he feel both empty, and full? Both blessed and cursed, in this moment? Bubby sat on his bed with his head in his hands.  _ Why, why, why, why? _

\-----  


It became a shockingly boring routine. Every 2nd day, Dr coomer came to his little shitbox dorm room just before 10pm, wanting refuge from his wife. Or from being kicked out by his wife to “have some time to think” or to “have some space”. Or a myriad of other reasons Bubby doesn’t want to think about unless he wants to accidentally set shit on fire.

It keeps happening, much to Bubby’s dismay. His friend was hurting, and (despite not showing it outwardly) therefore so was he. He’d almost give coomer’s wife a piece of his mind, if she wasn’t a part of the military. 

It was the 2nd night in their usual cycle. A clinical knock at the door. “Come in, Dr Coomer.”

“Hello, Bubby. How did you know it was me?” Dr Coomer walked in, his worn-out duffel bag and some records in his arms. 

Bubby folded his arms. “Sleepover again? It’s been happening a lot, Coomer. Are you alright?”

“I… I don’t want to talk about it. I want to talk about these, instead!” Coomer says in fake cheer, holding records in his arms. “I bought some tunes to dance to!”

“What, your piss baby grandpa music?”

Coomer laughed with a touch of sorrow in his voice. “Yes. Only the oldest and baby shittiest for you, bubby!”

“Nice.”

Bubby stood up from where he was to get blankets and drinks out, while coomer set up a record player and put on some tunes. Bubby set the blankets on the couch for coomer to sleep on later. Coomer put on some shitty record bubby didn’t care about, and He joined Coomer on the couch. 

Coomer was fidgeting and rocking slightly, as well as bouncing his leg and staring into space. There was an attempt at an effort to hide it, but Bubby knew better from their years of friendship. 

“Hey. What’s up?”

“I-” It took a while for coomer to find the words, “I’m... ge- getting divorced. She said she didn’t love me anymore,” tears were starting to go down his face, “and she liked her job more than me and she needed more time away and- and-.”

“Oh damn. I’m so sorry, Harold.” Bubby said, putting an arm around his shoulder in a side hug. 

They sat like this for a while, with coomer just crying into bubby’s shoulder and Bubby attempting to comfort coomer. The record that was playing ended, and bubby moved slowly to turn on another. Louis Armstrong? Seems right. 

The song starts fading in, along with the lyrics. Bubby cringes a little, as it’s a love song and probably a touchy subject for Coomer at the moment. " _A Kiss to Build A Dream On_ ".   


In spite of this, he started dancing a little. Coomer was a little bit calmer now, sitting down while bubby was doing a mockery of dance near him. Coomer looks dully at him, enthralled.  


“Hey! Wasn’t this your idea?” he asks. 

“Hmm? Oh, yes. I just.. I’m not sure if I feel up to it.”

“Come on!” Bubby said, holding out his hand to coomer and lifting him up to dance together. Thankfully, the song was of a slow tempo and soft accompaniment. 

An attempt was made at some sort of partner dance, but Bubby didn’t want to exhaust coomer as he probably was already emotionally exhausted by the divorce. Slowly, they shuffled together around the dorm room and Coomer hugged bubby tight, sobbing into his shoulder. Bubby’s heart was leaping and beating fast, but he kept it under control for his friend.  _ And crush, _ his mind treacherously provided. 

When the dulcet tones of Louis Armstrong faded out the two just stood there, with Coomer not crying anymore - still with sorrow, hugging Bubby. 

“Thank you for this.” said Coomer, muffled into Bubby’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“It’s all good,” Bubby said, trying not to be weird about it. He gently guided himself and Coomer to the couch, and they started a sci-fi horror movie marathon - the impending emotional devastation of his best friend’s divorce forgotten for a few sweet hours. 

\-----

The dorms of Black Mesa were a pittance compared to the untold luxury and  _ choice _ of the outside world! Many, many things were in Bubby’s control now versus back when he was company property. Clothes for one, were a huge thing. He could wear whatever kind of fucked up fashion he wanted and nobody could stop him. If they tried to, bubby would just burn them with psychokinesis. 

Food and drink was another! The shit they grew or made at Black Mesa tasted like ass compared to what he could buy and grow - fruits and vegetables and snacks and  _ so much soda _ . Jesus Christ, there were so many flavors. And he had all the time in the world to try them, with Coomer. 

After the resonance cascade and the science team’s escape from black mesa and Benrey, Bubby and Coomer decided to move in with each other. They got a big house, with lots of space to move about in and one with a big fireplace and fire pit outside for Bubby and a pool for Coomer.

\--

On a cool summer evening, Coomer and Bubby were sitting on the porch, looking at the fading sunset and stars while music was playing from an old record player Coomer owned. Well, They both own now. 

A particular soft tune started up, with strong brass, twinkling piano, and a soft guitar in the back. 

Coomer turned to him and said with a soft look in his eyes, “Bubby dear, would you like to join me in this dance?” he said, holding out his hand for Bubby to grab.   
  
“Hmm. Not sure.” bubby says in jest with a smile on his face, “But for you, I’ll make an exception.”

Taking his hand, they go into a small waltz on their back porch, with the lamplight glowing softly. They never falter, even growing closer as the song progresses. 

The finale of the track swells, and Bubby places a kiss on Comer's lips.

“I love you, Harold.”

“I love you too, Bubby.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.   
> The playlist/songs mentioned in order are:  
> Si tu vois mére by Sidney Bechet https://youtu.be/zs_DD_7C8_A  
> A Kiss To Build A Dream On by Louis Armstrong https://youtu.be/fHjZQb-kGek  
> I'm Beginning to See the Light by Harry James and His Orchestra https://youtu.be/R01JZm9A15U  
> My tumblr is https://captain-navii.tumblr.com/ and my discord is n6vi#2555  
> this is my longest fic I've posted lol


End file.
